


Dog Day

by cinder1013



Category: Glee
Genre: Animal Play, Fluff, M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinder1013/pseuds/cinder1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One summer day every year every resident in Lima turns into a dog except Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Day

It was sort of a secret, although not a well kept one. One magical day a year was Dog Day in Lima. Every last person within the town limits turned into a pooch from sun up to sun down ... except Kurt Hummel.

When he was little, he felt special. He would prance his little kitten butt down the street with his Dad, a rather formidable mastiff, and his mother, a collie, to watch over him. But his mother’s death and growing older brought a decrease in his self-esteem. Being different didn’t seem like so much fun anymore. Also, when he was ten some dogs chased him up a tree and he couldn’t get down until the next day when the fire department officers were human again. It was terribly embarrassing. All of this caused him to run straight into the closet, literally. He would crawl into the hall closet every Dog Day and hide under one of his dad’s coats until the day was over.

It wasn’t until he turned sixteen that he spent another Dog Day outside. He started the day sitting imperiously on his stoop, cleaning his calico fur with his long, pink tongue. When the dogs tried to chase him, he scratched their noses and leapt up onto the roof of the shed where he slept away the rest of the day curled up in the sun.

And this year ...

Kurt padded down the stairs. He found a shaggy sheep dog and a foxhound on the living room floor. It looked like the two had only made it this far before collapsing for a nap. He nudged the foxhound, most likely to be his boyfriend Blaine, with his paw. He didn’t think Blaine would end up as a sheep dog no matter how shaggy his eyebrows were.

“Oh, hi! Hi, hi!” Blaine leapt to his feet and wagged his tail. “You were right! You were totally right! I’m a dog!”

“I see that.” Kurt slunk around him, analyzing his boyfriend’s look from all sides. “It’s a good look for you. I think you’re a foxhound. Very pretty.”

“I kind of thought, you know, thought that I’d be a cat too.”

“No one is like me,” Kurt told him primly.

“I have this urge to chase you.”

“Resist it.”

“Ooo, hey!” The sheepdog, who was Finn, jumped up, barking at Kurt.

“Stop it!” Blaine yapped at him. Finn kept barking.

“Come on,” Kurt told Blaine. “He’s ... he gets very into the dog thing. Hmm, what shall we do?” He pushed his way through the flap built into the door expressly for this day each year, out onto the stoop. Blaine and Finn followed. Finn seemed distracted by walking enough to stop him from barking.

“Oh, I know! I know!”

Kurt sat, primly, on the top step and began cleaning one of his velvety paws. “You’re really starting to sound like that dog in _Up_.”

“Squirrel!” Blaine yelled. Kurt snickered at that.

“Squirrel?”

“No, there’s not a squirrel,” Kurt told Finn patiently. “To think I once had a crush on you.”

“No squirrel?”

“But wait, I got it!” Blaine enthused, ignoring Finn. “Let’s do that number from _Oliver and Company_!”

Kurt‘s ears perked up in excitement. “We so should! Come on!” Racing down the front steps, Kurt headed for the center of the street where several dogs were milling around. He recognized most of them by their personalities even if the type of dog they were had changed from the year before. Puck was the rotweiler and he thought the pitbull was probably his girlfriend, Lauren. The pretty dalmatian was Quinn and the golden retriever next to her jumping around excitedly had to be Sam. The doberman standing over the afghan, Brittany, shoving her down to the pavement was Santana. He assumed the schauzer was Mr. Schue. The pomeranian was Rachel and the two ibus were Mike and Tina. In the center of it all stood a beautiful black lab, Mercedes. Gathered around them were more of the townspeople, happily enjoying a warm, sunny Dog Day.

Kurt skidded to a stop next to his dad. For a few years after his mother died, his father turned into a collie, like she had been, but the last few years he was back to being a mastiff. A person would change into the dog they felt like. So, for example, Mike had been an Aussie last year, agile and fun, but generally obedient. This year he obviously identified more with his Asian side. It was a little like a patronus, Kurt reflected.

“Let’s do a song.” Kurt purred with enthusiasm.

“I like the purring thing,” Blaine told him.

Kurt slid his tail across Blaine’s nose as a reward for that comment.

“What kind of song?” Rachel asked. “I can totally do a song! We can sing all sorts of songs!”

Blaine laughed and sang, “One minute I’m in Central Park.”

“Then I'm down on Delancey Street, From the Bow'ry to St Marks,” Rachel sang back to him.

The dogs and Kurt laughed and danced around singing “Why Should I Worry?” Kurt grabbed all the ‘woo hoo hoo’ lines for himself and Blaine and Rachel took the lead. It was great fun.

“That was awesome!” Finn barked when they finished. “What’s next?”

“We should sooth our throats to ensure the health of our voices,” Rachel told him.

“Or we could chase Kurt up a tree,” Puck suggested. Lauren barked her support of that idea.

“Try it and I’ll scratch your nose again.”

“Squirrel!” Finn raced off and the other dogs followed him, barking.

Kurt shrugged. He climbed back up onto the porch and found a sunny spot on the warm floorboards to curl up in. Blaine returned after a little bit. Kurt flicked an ear at him to let him know he was awake. Blaine flopped down for his own nap. So, Kurt yawned and stretched, just to be contrary it seemed. Then he turned around in a circle before sitting his butt down and licking one of his already immaculate paws.

“Is there some water?” Blaine asked.

“By the door.”

Blaine went over and slurped up a drink.

“Did you all have fun?” Kurt asked.

“Oh yeah! It ran all over the place and we were chasing it! And it ran around and around and then it ran up a tree and we barked at the tree for a while! It was great!” Blaine positively shivered with excitement.

“Sounds spectacular,” Kurt commented dryly, going over to get his own drink.

“I thought you would like chasing squirrels.”

“I enjoy catching squirrels. There’s a difference.”

Blaine flopped down again and Kurt came over and curled up with him, cuddling close. “You eat them?” Blaine asked.

“Eww, no, stringy,” Kurt said, “and I think they have mites.”

“I’m glad you invited me.” Blaine nuzzled Kurt’s neck. “I’ve heard rumors of this for years, but I never believed it was true.”

“I used to hate this day every year.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like a slap in the face, one more way in which I was, well, queer.”

“I think you look beautiful. Prints are in. You really rock that calico. Why don’t you wear those colors more?”

Kurt preened under his boyfriend’s praise. “Mmm, they’re autumn colors. But after Labor Day, certainly.” He stretched, then trotted over to the railing and jumped up onto it. Walking along it, he stopped in front of a tree branch that was waving gently in the wind, watched it for a few moments, and then leapt onto it.

“Where are you going?”

“Bird.” Casually, he sauntered along the tree branch until he spotted a small bird. He thought maybe it was a finch or something. Crouching, he waited for the right moment, inching closer and closer. His tail swished from side to side. The bird looked away and Kurt sprang.

Extremely pleased with himself, Kurt carried the bird back to Blaine and deposited it at his feet.

“Oh, thank you,” Blaine told him, not particularly enthusiastically. He nudged the dead bird with his nose.

“Of course.” Kurt cleaned his whiskers.

“Not a squirrel?”

“You don’t like it?” Kurt asked, hurt.

“Of course, I love it!”

Kurt happily went back to grooming himself. “As you should.” Finally pleased with the state of his fur, he rubbed himself up against Blaine’s side and legs, marking him. “Come on, let’s go find something to eat.”

Blaine knocked the bird with his paw. “Chicken dinner?”

“That’s a finch and they have mites. Don’t eat that.”

“Then why did you hunt it for me?”

“Because I love you. Now, let’s go.” Standing, his tail held high, Kurt pranced primly down the steps. Blaine followed, slightly bemused. They trotted for a few blocks to the local ice cream shop where the owner had put out several vats of ice cream the night before. They were tipped over and melted now, spreading across the sidewalk and onto the street.

“Wow, we can eat this?” Blaine asked.

“Of course.” Kurt found himself some butter pecan and took delicate licks at it. Blaine just lapped it up, not caring how much of the sidewalk-dirt he swallowed in the process.

“Hey look!” one of the dogs barked.

Kurt froze.

“Cat!” another dog barked. Together the two of them turned on Kurt, a black poodle and a white one.

“Figures you’d be poodles,” Kurt hissed at them, “all bark and no bite.”

They just barked, “Cat, cat, cat!” Then gave chase. Kurt raced over to a tall barrel and leapt up on it, turning so he could hiss at Azimio and Kurofsky and swipe at their noses with his sharp claws.

“Leave me alone, you Neanderthals!” he yowled at them. “Neutered! You should be neutered!”

“Leave him alone!” Blaine yapped, but he was ignored.

Suddenly, there came a booming bark, one that heavily implied the threat of bite. “Leave my son the hell alone!” The two poodles pulled up sharply, then looked behind themselves at the massive mastiff standing there. “Why don’t you two run along home? It’s almost sundown,” Burt growled at them. The two dogs fled. “Come on, Kurt. We better get inside before the sun goes down.”

“Yes, Dad.” Kurt leapt down and walked in front of his dad much the way he had when he’d been just a kitten, only a bit less bounce. Now he was all sleek lines and prim attitude. Blaine followed and they made it home just as the sun was setting. Carole was already there, a pretty, white terrier.

“No Finn?” she asked, sighing. She didn’t wait for a reply, just headed upstairs.

“Shouldn’t we go find him?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. “He does this every year.”

“Kurt, your room,” Burt growled. “You,” he thrust his snout at Blaine, “Finn’s room. Now, before the sun goes down.”

“Yes, Dad.” Kurt sighed and trotted off. Blaine followed suit.

An hour later, Kurt came down the stairs with Blaine, fully human again and dressed.

“Wait, every year?” Blaine was asking.

“Every year. Back when I had a crush on him, I would sneak out and watch, which I’m not proud of.”

“But, you’d think he would get the hint.”

“This is Finn we’re talking about.”

* * *

Sure enough, outside Finn was sneaking from tree to tree, trying to hide his nakedness as he hurried inside, fully human again. It had been sunny and warm and he’d fallen asleep, like he did just about every year.

“Hey Finn!” Puck called to him. “Want some clothes?”

“Dude, yes!” Covering himself with his hands as best he could, he hurried up onto Puck’s porch.

“You’re so predictable.” Puck threw a football jersey at him.


End file.
